


A New Dream

by kkeithkatt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Introspection, M/M, hunk thinks about a lot of stuff, kinda ig, the others are mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 19:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18556306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkeithkatt/pseuds/kkeithkatt
Summary: They've been through a lot and he's learned a lot about himself and what he wants in life. There's something thrilling and terrifying about all of it but he knows one thing is certain: he never wants to let go.Hunk reflects on his relationship with Keith and as a cadet turned pilot.





	A New Dream

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to say this is very wordy and I did not proofread it at all. I have no idea if it flows together or makes sense and I don't care because honestly I just wanted to write and this baby happened on accident so . . . sorry, here ya go?   
> We die like men: complete fools with no personal self preservation.  
> This is my first heith fic but not my last hopefully. I swear I usually think these things through lol. Enjoy.

**I**

 

If there was one thing space had taught him, it was to brave every challenge.

When he had first applied to the Galaxy Garrison, it was honestly with this crazed notion that, if he was reluctant enough, they’d never send him “to infinity and beyond”. Hunk hadn’t been like most of his peers, like Lance who was eager to see and chase the stars. They were eager to make a name for themselves, almost every single pilot in the program had been. They wanted to tear streaks across the sky, test the throttle, go faster and faster until people like him would have to fix their broken ship where they pressed just too hard.

It wasn’t just the pilots though. It was everyone really and if he were honest with himself, he saw a spark of their eagerness in himself. Rather dim as it was. Pidge and Matt held the second driving force for most of the rest of the cadets. The desire to know more, to see and discover more. They wanted answers. To everything. Scientists and the like that were just along for the ride so that they too could experience the vast information and secrets space held from us, from Earth.

Hunk was neither of these things. He didn’t have some fire coursing through his veins like Lance, didn’t have a need to break records and make legends. And he wasn’t like Pidge or even Shiro, who wanted to see it all, who wanted to learn and live everything the universe had to offer.

Hunk just wanted to help people get there, wanted to help them and the universe see through it’s dream.

He was good with his hands, always had been, and while he longed to know what was out there, what was possible, he was happiest on the ground, with his feet firmly planted, hoisting people and ships into the unknown. Being an engineer was more than enough for him, was beyond what he ever thought was possible for someone like him. Someone who wasn’t daring or inquisitive. Just Hunk.

And then Voltron happened.

He would be the first of the paladins to admit that this wasn’t what he had wanted for himself. Ever.

He didn’t seek adventure or reckless nosedives or near death experiences. He didn’t have a heart constantly beating against his chest, eager to push and happy to fall.

Hunk didn’t want to experience the fear that he did when blood was spewing from a cut on his forehead from a close rush of Galran claws and he didn’t care for the bruises that littered his side, making his body ache in a way that was more than he had ever experienced in his life. He didn’t want to be heaving his stomach up for the upteenth time as Yellow was rapidly jerked about by a cruiser or even one of the other lions to dodge a blast. He didn’t want to have to hear the constant echo and ticking thrum of a clock in his ear as it inched closer and closer to zero, their death approaching should they fail, should they take too long.

Hunk didn’t seek these things, never had, and he hadn’t wanted to be a paladin as soon as Allura had softly spoken of his supposed destiny. But, while this wasn’t the path he saw for himself or wanted, it was the one he needed.

He knew it as soon as he met Shay, as soon as he learned about the Balmera and saw first hand what space and aliens really were like. They weren’t like what the fairy tales and old sci-fi movies liked to sketch them of, were nothing like the lessons he would have at the Garrison as his instructors talked about their own experiences, their own missions.

Space was terrifying, aliens were cruel, and it was beautiful.

Being up there, being around everything, seeing what he did, he oddly enough felt closer to humanity. Because even space and more advanced lifeforms hadn’t learned these lessons yet.

No one had and Hunk was starting to think no one ever would.

As their roles of paladins grew and became more important (as if they weren’t already!), so did his need to keep pushing.

Before, before going into space, before launching out of the atmosphere in lion shaped war machine, and before the Garrison, he had never wanted to push. He had clawed his way to the top of his small class and made his mark on the Garrison’s entrance exams, but that was where he had stopped. Had stopped pushing for his dreams because, as far as he was concerned, he had met them. But once they saw the stars, really saw them, and once he held Shay’s steady but gentle hand, he had known then what it was all the other cadets had been chasing after.

For some it was adventure and for others it was discovery but for him it was simply peace.

Space had become his home in a way. He had felt it almost immediately, when things had settled at the castle and all their turbulent feelings and thoughts had a chance to be eased and carried aside. He felt it when Coran and Lance brought him some odd thing to taste or tweek with enough to made edible. He felt it when Allura would lower her voice and speak of Altea, of all the luscious fields it had and the creatures that graced the lands and skies above. He felt it when Shiro was guiding his elbow back, teaching him the proper way to fight, so much more so than the Garrison had ever tried, his touch and voice low and soft. He felt it when Pidge would stumble into his room at 3am, bags under her eyes and teeth bared as she asked for his help to crack something or another.

But most of all, he felt it with Keith.

Keith had been the biggest surprise for him out of everything. Even being a paladin had seemed to make more sense in the beginning than this.

He had known Keith from before, back when they were fresh, young cadets, new to the Garrison and adulthood. He had been smaller then, they both had. Keith had been all bones and sharp looks and he himself had been soft and short, neither of them having reached that last hurdle of a growth spurt yet. Or puberty even.

Back then, Keith had terrified him and, if he were honest, Keith had terrified him again when he came waltzing back into their life with a bang (literally). The older boy had been quick to hit and twist and slow to apologize or smile. In fact, Hunk had never seen Keith smile before, not as a cadet.

Over a year later, when Kerberos had launched and Keith had stalked the halls with an intense glare but a quiet soul, Hunk began to understand why. And when the news had reached him of his expulsion, he had understood more.

The Garrison, as much of a breath of fresh air and sense of freedom it had been for him, was just another box to confine him in for Keith.

It was Keith that really made him brave, Keith that made him want to search and explore and push _ push _ **_push_ ** _. _

He had seen the way he had shoved his way past the guards, taking them out with little effort to reach and rescue his friend, to rescue Shiro. It had scared him at the time, to see this snarling boy that looked the same and yet so completely not, to see him with fangs bared and quieter than he had ever been. But when they had reached the shack, Keith’s shack, far from the Garrison and deep in the desert, and all Keith had said was where to find the bathroom after handing them a stack of blankets to sleep with, he had felt nothing but admiration.

Here was the quiet boy he had known, the one that finished fights but always had a hand to lend him, and here he was again, doing the same.

He had laid on a thin mattress that night, the only one in the whole shack, with Lance sleeping next to him and Pidge by their feet, and had thought of time.

Keith had changed. He spoke less, something Hunk had thought impossible considering how quiet he had been in class, and he hardly ever really looked at any of them, when the boy Hunk had known would stare someone in the eye just for breathing near him, too stubborn to look away first. He looked different too. He had grown taller, like he had too, and suddenly Keith wasn’t just scrawny knees and elbows. His legs were long and his shoulders broad. Still small, compared to him, compared to many of them, but sturdier and lean with prominent muscle now. Stronger.

But he was the same too. He had steadied Hunk on his way down when he was climbing off the back of the hoverbike. He had stumbled, lurching roughly to the side, and Keith had placed a calm hand on his shoulder, a firm rock to straighten himself with. He had quirked his lip up at him before walking off and small as it may seem it reminded him so much of all the flight sims they had taken together. Sims that Keith had piloted through with ease while Hunk had struggled and sweated bullets at, hands shaking and legs twitching. Keith had settled him then to, a silent hand ready to guide him to the path as he spoke to him in low tones, too low for anyone to hear.

He doesn’t think he even knows how much that had meant to him, how reassured and calm Keith had helped him feel. He’s pretty sure the only reason he had passed his one and only required flight course was because of him.

He thought a lot about Keith that night, and of Shiro too. The two of them and how they had been from before, how they seemed to have become something else, away from everyone. They were both quieter, from the brief minute he had seen when Shiro had woken up. Keith had ushered them out of the room quickly, not wanting them to crowd and frighten his best friend, and they had willingly gone without comment, even Lance. The panicked look he had seen in Shiro’s eyes then as he eyed them all, sizing them up and reading their faces for any hint of memory, still haunted him.

He had wondered if Keith thought about it too, later on.

The next morning had been a constant jerk of ideas and decisions that quickly lead them to a cave that only Keith knew of and subsequently to the blue lion and that, they say, was only the beginning.

He hadn’t talked to him a lot those first few weeks. While it was true they had somewhat known each other, they definitely hadn’t been friends and that was who they stuck to the most at first. Pidge and Lance were constantly by his sides, constantly invading his room, and constantly chatting his ear off, both with aimless chatter and hushed fears. And Shiro and Keith themselves stuck together, away and seperate from the rest of them, talking in whispers and looks that only they seemed to get.

But he had watched him. They fought a lot of battles in quick succession, the Empire eager to take them out quickly, and, with Coran and Allura still learning the Castle over again and how the universe was now, they hadn’t been able to do a lot of escaping. This lead to lots of fights, both in the air and on the ground.

They had been invading base after base, searching for and freeing prisoners while Pidge scanned the databases. On a lot of those bases, there had been soldiers and droids waiting. It had been his job to guard Pidge, to help her out if needed and watch her back when not, so while most of the fighting never reached them, he had heard and seen it.

Lance was the one that usually guarded the door, guarded them both, while Keith and Shiro stalked the nearest halls, keeping an eye out but ready to go at the ready. Their front line. A lot of the time, most of the fights were only heard by them over the comms, grunts and curses and growled threats reaching his ears as blasting fire echoed in the not so distant background. But when they did get close enough, it was hard to look away.

Keith and Shiro had always been a team, a well orchestrated pair that moved effortlessly and efficiently together, and sometimes he would get to see it in action, and other times, often, he would see them apart.  Those were the fights to really watch.

It had almost always been Keith that had ended up chasing after someone that managed to sneak off, almost always Keith that caught them, and so it was almost always Keith that Hunk got to see.

He fought in a way not at all unlike a cat, like the Galra they were fighting actually. Keith was all give and take, constantly shoving his way into the soldiers spaces and weaving his way out. He fought with everything he had, his body surging forward and languidly stretching out. Punches were heavy and fast and kicks were wide and brutal. He leapt off the walls and off the ground effortlessly as he launched his whole body at the enemy, teeth snarling and voice a low growl as he glared and spit at the empire soldiers.

It was always hard to watch, always brutal. Because the Galra never played nice either, never went easy. They were immoveable walls that had to be shoved and knocked down, vicious claws swiping and bitter taunts being cast. Neither Keith nor the Galra were in the fight to lose and both were in it to kill.

Keith always somehow came out on top though, sometimes bleeding and always sweaty and panting, but it would always be his sword thrusting through their chest, would always be their blood pouring over his hands.

He never lost, never faltered, and it was him who truly taught Hunk to never back down from a challenge.

Backing down meant death and Keith had somehow taught all of them that nothing should get in their way of victory and that that was okay.

But it wasn’t this that made Hunk brave, wasn’t the fighting or fancy kicks. It was what came after those battles, after those kills that none of them had wanted to give.

After every mission, no matter how hard or bad it had been, they would all gather in the lounge. Shiro insisted on it, on them bonding and talking things over, and Allura approved, taking the time to do a mission debriefing and Coran healing anyone that needed it.

Keith would always be the last to settle down, the last to join them. Sometimes he would spend a whole varge in Red before joining them, armour gone but his body clearly tired.

He would perch himself on the end of the couch closest to Shiro, the space left clearly empty for him, as he endured and ignored Lance’s teasing remarks about him finally joining them. He’d be silent the whole time, only talking when a question was directed specifically to him. They had all learned he wasn’t much of a talker after missions. They all dealt with them differently. 

Lance would nervously fill every second with words, making comments about this or that, not wanting to dwell too long on anything, not wanting to hear the silence left behind and having to deal with it. Pidge would hyperfocus on her part of the mission, telling the same story over and over or getting in a rabbit hole as she explained something that somehow turned into a brief lesson of integrals and derivatives.

Allura would praise all of them for their hard work, constantly giving out compliments while berating her own misses and should haves, brushing over any “good job” thrown her own way. She would always somehow have a story to connect it back to, Coran piping up to join her as he fussed over each of them. Coran would always be picking at them, moving their hair or wrapping one too many bandages around or putting way too much ointment on.

Hunk himself would step aside to make a quick treat, wanting to fill his friends with warmth and food as they basked in the moment that yes, they got to do this again. This would not be their last meal. He’d give hugs freely and happily, often joining Pidge and Lance in any tangent they went off on. Not unlike him, Shiro would also give touch freely. He’d seem to find comfort in it, in being able to feel them all, both at the edges of his conscious and his fingertips. Hunk would constantly feel a hand settle on his shoulder for a moment or watch Shiro run a hand through Pidge’s hair, chuckling as he teased her. He could look over at almost any moment and find the man running his fingers over Keith’s arms or settling a hand down to squeeze his knee.

Keith would be the only one that didn’t talk. He would always just sit there, silently taking everything in, listening attentively. Sometimes he’d pull his legs up under him and tuck himself into Shiro’s side, pressing his face into his chest, eyes lowered. Those were usually after really bad missions, when they were all just a bit more quiet. He’d say nothing and would ignore all attempts of Coran’s fussings, no matter how clearly he needed it. Keith always denied a pod and would seldomly allow a hand to pinch his cheek.

Later, when they were all gone and Keith remained, Hunk would sometimes stay with him. There was almost alway an agreement that, unless clearly desired, Keith would not be left to leave last. Shiro stayed back with him the most, the two of them content to sit in silence and, he suspected, Shiro feeling more ready to get the red paladin to talk and Keith more comfortable to maybe share. When Pidge stayed, she would immediately shove her way into his lap and work on her computer, him not even blinking at the action.

When it was Hunk though, and he always stayed after the battles he knew Keith took one too many hits on, they would sit until he pulled out the first aid kit Coran would bring in. Hunk would give it to him, sliding it over the soft cushions to him, and Keith would pick it up and wrap his own wounds, stitching them back together and ignoring any offer Hunk would give to help.

The first time he had watched Keith stitch open a knife wound none of them had known he had gotten, he had almost cried. He had definitely yelled. How had Keith hidden that and not said a word the whole time? And he would just shrug and talk about how he got it, sometimes. He’d carefully stitch his skin as he tossed the hastily wrapped bandage from Red aside, thick wrappings stained heavily with blood.

He’d watch as Keith would apply creams and carefully lay down bandaids and glide his finger over the sticky edges slowly and calmly, as if he had always done this. And sometimes, he would wait and Keith would do this to him. He’d apply the helping healing altean creme to Hunk’s ribs, humming an old song he never recognized, and he’d never ask a single question. Would never ask how he got it or why he hadn’t told anyone. He’d just heal him off and pat his shoulder and ask Hunk what was on his mind.

Eventually, Hunk started going to Keith for random things. Whether it was a quick spar that he didn’t want to learn anything from, just wanted to lose or a chat about mechanics that he knew the older boy could easily follow, he’d go to him. There was a gentle air to him that made his nerves calm, that made Hunk steady, not unlike those times from before at the Garrison.

Whenever he wanted quiet, wanted a silence that the others just couldn’t give, he’d shyly knock on Keith’s door and, when he would open it and let him in, would just lay on his bed while Keith drew.

It was during all these moments that they grew close and this is where the true bravery came into play. Because Keith had taught him to give his all unashamedly, to take what he wanted with bared teeth, and he had taught him the gift of silence and steady air, but it was when they were alone and the world was quiet that he learned what it all really meant. What kind of bravery he needed for the especially hard challenges thrown his way.

These moments would calm quietly, calmly. They’d happen in ways that he never saw coming but could never bring himself to second guess either. The first time his feet walked him to Keith without him deciding to, he had known. He had always known.

He had been on the observation deck. All the lights had been off save for the one glowing crystal in the center that casted a soft, pale light onto everything. The main panes had been left opened and he was sitting by one of the windows. His knees were drawn up to his chest, head tilted to the side to rest against the glass. He had briefly looked his way when Hunk first entered but other than that, he had made no move to acknowledge him.

It was fine by him. He had walked the long distance from the main door to Keith’s spot and sat next to him, keeping a reasonable space between them. Keith kept his face tilted toward the window, stars stretched out behind him, space bathing him in a backdrop of deep purple and red lighted stars.

Resting his chin in his palm, he hadn’t been able to look away.

Their meetings increased after that. There was some unspoken agreement between them. A line that Keith had allowed him to cross. He would often shove his way into Keith’s room now, not even bothering to knock anymore, and whether the other was there or not, he’d sprawl himself across his bed, heels propping up against the wall as he tipped his head back over the bed.

They’d seek each other out then. Whenever Hunk felt lonely, too many thoughts of earth and his family clouding his mind to bake or tinker away, he wouldn’t find himself walking to Pidge or Lance anymore. Instead he’d turn the corner and head to wherever he thought Keith to be.

More often than not, he’d end up in either the pool or the training room. Whether his next few vargas would be spent lazily floating along the cool surface of the water, giggles seizing his body as Keith told yet another ridiculous story or another, or in the training room, panting as he blocked fist after fist, shaping his body to get faster and not just stronger, it didn't matter. He’d enjoy it regardless.

But it wasn’t just him. He’d be humming quietly to himself as he kneaded something like dough in the kitchen only to suddenly have Keith at his elbow. He’d give a half quilty looking shrug or a quick flick upwards of his lips in apology before helping Hunk with whatever he asked, whatever he was doing. He’d tell him of his home, speaking in quiet tones about his aunt’s and uncle and their kids, the cute little ones that barely reached his hip last time he saw them. He’d feel warm as they’d slide the dish into the oven and he’d blame it on the heat, pointedly ignoring the matching smiles they’d both tried to hide. 

He didn’t think anything strange of any of it. It wasn’t until their mission through the weblum that he felt different. After Keith had shared his rare but expected hug with Shiro, their arms wrapping around the other entirely, he had walked past the others, who were somber but waving regardless, and had set a hand on his shoulder.

It wasn’t a new touch, wasn’t one that should have shocked him at all, but nonetheless it had. Because Keith touched him now, but he had never done so in front of the others, barely allowed Hunk to do so either, despite how freely he gave his own.

There was many cases of fear for him. He constantly felt like he was running from something, like he had to be afraid, but those moments with Keith had given him a new kind of fear, one that he both ached with and looked forward to.

They’d be in one of their rooms, backs against the wall and feet nudging each other idly every few doboshes. It wouldn’t be a particularly spectacular moment, nothing of interest. Hunk would be playing some game on his phone that Pidge had downloaded for him and Keith would be sketching some doodles beside him. Every now and then he’d make a comment, pointing a thick finger at one of the smudged and silly faces of his teammates and Keith would tilt his head up and look at him, a ghost of a laugh on his face, smile soft and easy as he teased Hunk for losing his game yet again. With that smile directed at him, he would feel his heart skip a beat, palms beginning to sweat, and he’d have to swallow around a thin chuckle. A nervous kind of fear would strike him but he’d be eager to feel it again, to make it worse somehow.

It was during one of these moments that he first thought about kissing him.

It was during one of these moments that he  _ had _ kissed him.

They had just finished a battle and the team had elected to remain of the recently freed planet for a couple of vargas and enjoy the vast lands it held. Lance had eagerly tugged a grinning Allura toward one of the lakes, talking widely about some fishes the locals had told him about. Shiro had chuckled and mumbled about maybe joining them, walking at a significantly slower pace. Pidge had quickly excused herself from everyone as she joined Coran in a quest to the main village to take a look at some relics a few of the younger ones had mentioned not a half varga earlier. Keith had tilted his head in the direction of the forest and with a grin that stretched far too wide for the occasion, Hunk had joined him on his walk.

They had been walking for about 20 doboshes. Keith had been animatedly retelling a story about the time he had almost fallen off a cliff during his year in the desert, waving his hands wildly around as he made shapes with them, little silly noises coming out of his mouth that Hunk couldn’t figure out the purpose to. When he had confessed that, Keith had tipped his head back and chuckled lowly, the sound deep in his throat.

He had looked so beautiful when he laughed. The sun had started to set behind him and with the way the sky was colored, it had looked so close to an earth sunset, bathing everything in warm reds and bright oranges, happy yellows casting a glow on their skin. He had laughed with sunshine and fire in his hair, a dare in his eyes that Hunk swore was always there, challenging anyone to get closer.

He had felt his bravest then with him and he had known, had known that this is what everyone meant when they talked about being brave and pushing past your fears. This is what Keith and Shiro and Allura meant when they said the fear didn’t matter in the moment, that it was always worth it.

He had still been chuckling when he had blurted it out.

“Can I kiss you?” The words had nearly stumbled over themselves, coming out in messy syllables.

Keith had stopped mid sentence, eyes wide and lips parted. The wind was blowing softly, tugging at the loose strands of his hair, and he wanted nothing more than to bask in that moment.

It’d have been peaceful if not for the loud beating of his heart echoing in his ear as it tried valiantly to escape his chest.

He could visibly see him swallow before a hesitant nod was given.

“Yes,” Keith had whispered, shy. Maybe he wasn’t the only one that was scared then and that was what helped him take that last step forward and softly press their lips together.

Kissing Keith had been exactly what he thought it would be and nothing like it at all the same. He had stood there at first, immovable, before he had lightly pushed back and then, like a switch had flipped, it was Keith leading their kiss, Keith kissing him, and he could feel it down to his fingertips and toes.

He had always been like fire. Hot and smoldering and dangerous. But he was warm too, safety from the cold, and kissing him had felt like what Hunk would imagine touching the sun would be like.

Minus the painful, fiery death part of course.

The touch from his lips had spread like molten lava, lighting up every nerve it reached. As his hands had come up to cup Keith’s face, fingers sliding themselves easily into his dark strands, he could feel the heat filling his lungs and with every press of their lips, the fire grew and grew.

It was terrifying and he wanted more.

Hunk would find kissing him would always feel like that, to some degree. Dating him even more so.

Neither of them had really been in a relationship before. Hunk had, of course, had his fair share of awkward prom dates and silly friendship crushes turned kissing on “study dates” but he’d never really held anyone’s hand before or had someone to confess his lonely night thoughts to. Keith, likewise, had something of a friends with benefits thing going on with their old classmate James. Minus the friend part that is. But he too had never asked someone out to see some cheesy movie or to kiss their cheek at the end of each day together.

They fumbled through dating like they did everything. At first, he himself had been a nervous ball of energy tweeting about. He had asked before touching him, always, even if it was just the simplest thing like a hand at the small of his back. Things that had been easy before seemed to be worth three minutes of deep contemplation and a lot of swear now. Always afraid to say the wrong thing or say too much or not enough and constantly worried he wasn’t on the same kind of clock all of his classmates had seemed to follow.

Keith had taken the opposite approach though, diving into everything with a rush and stubborn frown. He’d shove little trinkets into his hands with a scowl but a soft glare and he’d give heavy, long kisses to him whenever they were alone in his room, hands remaining firmly on the bed sheets. But if Hunk ever blushed or gaped, he’d backtrack quickly with too fast, too many apologies.

After enough awkward starts though, one day they just seemed to click. Keith stopped giving gifts and traded them instead for tiny pecks on his cheek and offers to help with breakfast. And Hunk started bringing his water bottle to him when he was training that he’d always forget, no matter what., and started asking all the questions he had wanted to, with no filter, that Keith always seemed to answer so casually, so easily.

Love, he learned, was a challenge. One that he didn’t often get. Didn’t understand. But Keith didn’t either and it made all the easier to travel through when they were in it together.

It was hard though. Hard to watch the man you love, sluggishly limping and panting, as he drove a sword through someone’s throat and out their face only to fall over the next breath. Hard to see him take a hard hit in his lion, lights going dim as they lost consciousness. It was hard when they were split apart. By the situation, by the battle, by time, and by space. Hard when he was galaxies away, doing god knows what, and you were clutching your communicator both dreading and longing for it to ring. The news, you could never be sure of.

But it was all worth it. All worth the tired, sleepy grins Keith would answer his datapad with at nights. The lights low as they talked about their day. A new scar here, a bruise there, but alive.

It was worth it when Hunk would get to greet him in the hanger and they would get to spend the afternoon with the team, happy and laughing and warm again. They’d always finish the night in his,  _ their _ , room, hands gentle and wandering and searching the body that was so often missing but changing still, kisses pressed to heated flesh hidden under clothes.

It was worth it when Keith came back from a many decaphoeb long mission that none of them had known about or noticed. Came back with a mother, a wolf, and a friend. Came back taller and broader, hair longer, and eyes softer, tone stronger. Worth it when later, he carried their friend, another new scar there, his hand reaching out to grasp his, and a promise on his lips as they waited and waited and finally found.

He thinks about their start and stumbles through it all often. How awkward they had been back then, but how easy and right it had felt, still felt.

It was hard for people to understand how the two of them fit together, hard for them to envision the softest and most reserved paladins together. Their friends had been quite baffled in the beginning. Lance and Pidge had been the most vocal about it. Pidge with their puzzling frowns and curious eyes, just watching and studying them. Lance with his loud complaints and wide arm waves, constantly asking questions.

But Shiro had understood the most, just looking at them with a smile that seemed too knowing to Hunk. He had given them a hug when they had told them, pressed his forehead to Keith’s and talked in a soft whisper that Hunk would never hear the words to, even later. With himself, Shiro had pulled aside later and had told him he was glad he made his best friend happy, right before threatening to kill him should he ever disrupt that.

Hunk wasn’t sure he had been joking. Thankfully, he would never find out.

When they had all met Krolia, she had seemed to get them the most, even more so that Shiro. Keith had explained to him about the time flashes on the space whale, how they had shown them visions and memories of things in the distance of time. Forward and back. How Krolia had seen them fall together and then in love. But he knew it was more than that, knew when Krolia’s voice would get soft and quiet and she would speak of a man only Keith would know. A man, so different and unlike her, but so soothing and so right. She had talked of all their differences and how he had managed to smooth out all her hard edges and jagged points. Hunk had listened and he had understood.

For both Keith and Hunk, they had both been privately thrilled once they got to the Garrison and had witnessed Iverson’s reaction to the revelation. The older man had clearly been baffled by it, no doubt remembering the spitfire, loose canon Keith had once been and the queasy, stuttering boy Hunk had been. How two people like that could ever merge, he had no idea, but as time went on he had been their biggest stone to lean on, the one that seemed most pleased at the sight of them.

It warmed Hunk and disturbed Keith, which only made him laugh harder.

His family, likewise, had accepted them as easily as they had anything in their life. His mom had taken one look at Keith before cupping his face in her hands and smiling, patting his cheek and resolutely calling him a “good boy”. His father had hugged him, clapped him on the back, and winked at Hunk. It had equally baffled and thrilled him.

But despite all the, mostly positive, attention they had gotten, none of it had mattered in the face of war.

The final battles with Honerva had been draining and it had taken everything in him to keep it all together. They were constantly fighting the unknown, constantly behind and struggling to catch up, to be fast enough to win the race against the Altean colony. His nerves had been shot almost the whole time and he spent more time in the gym and kitchen than anywhere else altogether. His days had become a weird blend of stress baking bread and sweets and tackling the punching bags and willing soldiers.

Keith had been in a similar state, going in and out of meetings, a harried look to him. If he wasn’t debating and strategizing, he was in the gym too, sparring with Shiro or Allura or the drone Pidge had designed specifically for him. His comm would be close by, eagerly waiting the next call or message from his mother. Sometimes, Kosmo would find him and force him to play, and the lines around his eyes would soften and Hunk would feel some of the weight on his chest ease.

They had hardly any time for each other, both of their attentions being needed all day long. Because while he wasn’t the leader of Voltron, he did have pressing issues. The Atlas, for example, was still a new, mostly unknown ship that was being studied and worked on constantly. And the MFE fighters needed mending too, being the Atlas’s main defense in space and battle. Being an engineer had always been his dream and when they had found Voltron, he had assumed it to be gone, but on the Atlas, it had come back to him with greedy hands.

War had sucked them all of their energy, draining them, and more often than not, the only times they would see each other was in the heart of battle, a mission debriefing, or in the unison heavy slumps into their bed right before passing out.

There had been no time or space for love then and it constantly came out in the form of annoyed, frustrated snaps at each other and rough, desperate sex that seemed to be over before it started. They didn’t have time for “I love you”’s anymore and there were no good morning kisses or relaxing dates turned picnics on the observation deck.

Those days had been hard and brutal but, in the end, they had made it through and once their feet had hit the bridge again, the battle now over, all the stress had seemed to wilt away, replaced with a quiet gentleness neither had seen in a long time.

The after had been the greatest challenge though.

With Allura’s near sacrifice and the Voltron Lions disappearance and actual sacrifice to the void, all realities had been restored and healed. They had all returned victorious but broken. 

Allura’s magic had been weak, her body not strong enough to produce wormholes and, on most days, even hold herself up. Lance had been by her side constantly, a steady body to lean on and clutch too. They spoke louder now, when before it had all been whispers and behind doors. Their love was more open, more obvious, when faced with the reality that they had been too close to losing this. Lance, he knew, often shook with nightmares of that time and what it would have been like, had they all not done what they had. He bore the scar on his palm proudly, his quintessence freely given.

Pidge had been a mess of thoughts and ideas. She had ran herself ragged trying to find answers. What had happened to Honerva and how had any of it been possible? What could they do now? How could they fix any of this? She had poured her mind over all the questions anyone was asking, trying to come up with the words and results everyone wanted, until it had made her snap and she had broken down into tears that Hunk even had been shocked to see. They had forced her to bedrest and she had willingly gone, quiet and reserved. He didn’t see her smile again until they found New Olkari. Even then, she seemed to take life at a slower wait, walking it calmly now, where before she had rushed, Time, she realized, was valuable and she wanted to experience it while she could. With Green gone, the emptiness in her mind was loud and longed for nature to fill it.

Shiro had lost his arm again with the loss of the realities. When Allura had stood, ready to leave and sacrifice herself for them, for everyone, they had known what was really needed. Quintessence and alchemy and a lot of it. Shiro’s arm bore the fruits of both and he heard none of her protests to refuse, stating an artificial limb was nothing compared to her life. He would manage. And he did, later accepting the arm Matt and Slav would build for him, olkari ruins and energy powering it. Shiro, it seemed, had taken the lost and the gravity of everything as a reason to smile more. He talked more often, smile more so, and seemed to realize that nobody would think less of him for it. His touch came more freely, his words smoother, and he looked lighter than Hunk could ever remember him being.

For Hunk and Keith, the after had given them much to think about. For Hunk, it had been a matter of where. Where would he go now? Where would he turn his sight and skills to next? There was so much to do and so little known. Where to start? Their relationship had felt very fragile then, marked in wartime as it had been. He had feared, constantly, that they wouldn’t make it through. They had barely managed to hold the reins in through their last major fight, who's to say they could now? He had taken that fear and thought of the way Keith had fought the empire from the beginning though. How brutal and fearless he had been, how selfish he had taken his own life into his hands and declared himself the winner of every fight, every skirmish. He had taught them to be greedy with their wants, to put their life and happiness above it all, and Hunk had applied that logic to Keith now.

He kissed him longer and harder, no longer shy, and he asked for dates often, giving surprises and gifts and spontaneous road trips a try. He shared more stories of himself, of a childhood he had ached to think about in space, much less talk about. He cooked more but slower, enjoying the time and company, and not just the results. He started doing all the things he had missed with Keith since his return. Started holding him closer and tighter, unwilling to let go of the boy he feared to lose.

Keith was softer with his affections in turn. Before, when they had been newer and rawer, he had raced through and pushed. Now his touches were slow, gentle, loving. He didn’t seek for anything more than that, just wanted what he had in the moment, wherever it got him. His kisses became sweeter, more relaxed, and his words more quiet, more honest, more firm. He spoke his mind freely and without prompt, constantly leaving Hunk notes and messages and good morning’s and goodbye’s. He relished their time together.

Hunk feared losing it but Keith feared not seeing it at all.

They grew closer through it though. Before, their relationship had been fast and hot and burning, like a fire ready to seek everything. It warmed them, overheated them, and made their bones melt and words sting, good and bad. But now it seemed flatter, more stable. They were no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop, no longer fearful of the inevitable.

Hunk didn’t fear that “last call” anymore. His hands no longer shook when his comm would vibrate, the Blade of Marmora’s name flitting across the screen.

He thinks of them, of the before, and he sighs. They had been so young, so scared, and yet.

And yet.

Beside him, Keith stirs from the noise, rolling over in their bed to press his body against his. Their legs and chest line up and he slings an arm over Hunk’s waist, pulling himself closer to tuck his face against his side. A sleepy sigh escapes his lips and he nuzzles his bare skin, but his eyes stay closed, still lost to slumber.

Smiling, he reaches up a hand to dig his fingernails into his scalp, scratching the soft skin there and parting his black hair a little.

This is his whole universe and it had been hard fought, they had been so close, so often, and it terrifies him still, but, like Keith, it only makes the ache and burning hole in his chest hotter. He seeks more of it, of this, and with a kiss to his forehead, he casts one more thought to the black box hidden in his dresser under a layer of boxers.

An itch forms in his palm and his heart skips a beat.

Tomorrow, he tells himself.

Tomorrow.

 


End file.
